


five times Kartik charmed his way into the Tripathi family + the one time he didn’t have to

by adhoori



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Living Together, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhoori/pseuds/adhoori
Summary: It starts because of Goggle. Aman will swear to this till his dying breath; it’sentirelyGoggle’s fault. Yes, she goes by Rajni now. No, he will not call her that, because Goggle was a nicknamehecame up with, out of love and affectionwaybefore everyone made into a Thing. So he’s allowed, Goggle said so. Anyway, it starts with Goggle adding Kartik to their family Whatsapp group. And really, if Kartik ever breaks up with him Aman will know this is why.eta:chapter 2 is now up, and it's the same fic, just entirely in english, for those of you who asked!
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 60
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello, i love these boys a stupid amount and wrote this in one day because i had Feelings!!!

###  **1.** ~~ **Goggle**~~ **Rajni Tripathi**

Things Aman wasn’t surprised to hear and was extremely proud of his boyfriend (Husband?) for: 

  1. Basically saving Goggle’s life.
  2. Somehow making her even more outspoken (she went by Rajni now, it was a Moment).
  3. Giving her self-esteem a boost. 



Things Aman was shocked and appalled by: 

  1. Goggle started dating and had a boyfriend two weeks after they returned from Allahabad. Her excuse for the family was _at least it’s a boy_. No one said anything after that.



_Aman: Are you leveraging my sexuality to date boys_

_Goggle: It was Kartik’s idea actually_

_Aman: I—_

_Aman: You talk to Kartik???_

_Goggle: You don’t want to know_

_Aman: Arre bata na_

_Goggle: tips chahiye thi_

_Aman: tips?_

_Goggle: t i p s :)_

_Aman: you’re right. I didn’t want to know._

2\. Goggle and Kartik are apparently best friends

3\. He calls her Rajjo. _Rajjo_. Unbelievable.

***

Aman comes home, tired and sweaty after the day he’s had. He’s taken to teaching chemistry at their local high school. It’s not permanent, they needed a substitute teacher for 6 months and well, he figures they could use the stability while they figured things out. Kartik was still in sales too, they needed the money, but it felt like they were finally on an upward swing and things would slowly fall into place.

He hears the shower running in their bathroom and stops at their dining table to grab a glass of water when he sees the book Kartik has been reading this week. It’s lying next to an envelope addressed to Goggle and Aman gathers he’s probably sending it to her. The gesture makes warmth unfurl in his chest, but also, he shouldn’t be surprised. For someone who’d been hurt the way Kartik has, multiple times, he remained beautifully open with his heart. Giving his love freely. It was one of Aman’s favorite things about him. The book lies open on page one, where Kartik had slipped a note in.

_I saw one of her poems on Instagram so I bought the book. Surprisingly, Lajpat nagar mein secondhand mil gayi. She talks a lot about self-worth, and beauty and how “you’re not a reflection of those who can’t love you.” achhi line hai na? I finished reading it today and thought you might like it. It’s yours to keep. - Kartik_

Aman sits there, waiting for the bathroom to free up, flipping through the book. He’s not much for poetry, he likes the literal, the tangible, but Kartik loves it, and he knows Goggle does too. His dad had always taken great pride in sending them to an English medium school and Aman had fond memories of middle school when Goggle would read his English textbook with a hunger he’d only seen mirrored now, in Kartik. But to sit there, sweat cooling on his back, thinking about how two of his favorite people get along...it’s something he never thought he’d have. 

He gets up and mills around their kitchen, getting the eggs out of the fridge. They had leftovers from yesterday too, so some bhurji with roti would probably cover it. Aman debates whether to start chopping things up, when he hears the bathroom door open.

Kartik looks...well he looks really fucking good all of the time, but privately, Aman thinks he looks the best at home when neither of them has to pretend otherwise. When he can just walk up and kiss the living daylights off his boyfriend (fiancée?). Which is what he does. Kartik pulls back, flushed, dazed and smiling and Aman thinks he’d do pretty much anything to have him look like that all the time.

“What was that for?”

Aman smiles, grazing his thumb across a stubbled cheek. “Kyun? Kiss nai kar sakta?”

“Kar toh tu bahot kuch sakta hai.” Kartik smiles back easily, eyes glinting playfully.

And well, no one said Aman wasn’t the most competitive motherfucker around this house. Challenge accepted. He sinks to his knees. That’ll show him.

  
  


###  **2\. Sunaina Tripathi**

It starts because of Goggle. Aman will swear to this till his dying breath; it’s _entirely_ Goggle’s fault. Yes, she goes by Rajni now. No, he will not call her that, because Goggle was a nickname _he_ came up with, out of love and affection _way_ before everyone made into a Thing. So he’s allowed, Goggle said so. Anyway, it starts with Goggle adding Kartik to their family Whatsapp group. And really, if Kartik ever breaks up with him Aman will know this is why.

It’s been about three months since they came back from Allahabad, since their almost-wedding or you know, almost-breakup, whichever way you look at it. Although he personally prefers almost-wedding. God knows they’ve christened every room of their apartment enough to celebrate it.

Aman almost adds double the amount of 5% BSA to his buffer solution when he sees the notification. Oh god. Oh _no_. Everyone knows that adding someone to the Whatsapp group is at least a level 7 step in a relationship. He peels off his gloves before texting Goggle furiously.

_Aman: W H Y_

_Goggle: you’re basically married ya_

_Aman: if he breaks up with me after this, its on you_

_Goggle: check the group, he’s already talking to chachi :))_

_Aman: bahot maar khayegi tu_

_Goggle: love u too_

Honestly, fuck Goggle.

***

The truth is, Kartik is _way_ better at handling that Whatsapp group than Aman has ever been. Aman has had it on mute since 2014. Kartik replies to every single one of his mom’s messages. With emojis. It’s awful, really. Aman can’t believe he’s being shown up by his own boyfriend. (Husband? Fiancée? They really needed to talk about that.)

***

When his mom finally calls him back after an hour, Aman heads to the balcony for a better signal. He picks it up, visibly annoyed. “Kya kar rahe the aap log? Kitni baar phone kiya maine.”

“Chaman ka birthday hai, sab bahar gaye the. Tujhe yaad nai tha?”

If someone could bottle the way his mom sounds polite but extremely unimpressed with him….it would scare countries into submission, he just knows it.

Aman clears his throat. “Haan, I mean—of course. Isliye toh maine phone kiya tha. Wish karne ke liye,” he finishes unsteadily.

“Bilkul. Kartik ne toh subah hi message kar diya tha, group pe. Tu bhi dekh liya kar kabhi.”

He laughs weakly before wishing his uncle, making polite small talk until it was clear neither of them had anything else to add to the conversation. He hangs up, sighing. There’s a reason the group was muted. He’s just never been a people-person, never really gelled in because he’d been hiding such a big part of himself from them all his life. Now, things were different, but he still felt the lingering awkwardness each time they talked.

Aman shakes himself out of it, turning around to see Kartik leaning against the balcony door. Right now, he was going to strangle his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who it turns out, was laughing at him. Aman tries to stay mad. He really, truly does. But the thing about Kartik is, he has the most infectious laugh Aman has ever heard. Loud and full-bodied and it lights him up from the inside out.

Kartik stops laughing long enough to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know teri baat nai hui thi,” he finishes, dissolving into laughter again.

“Kitna kameena hai tu. Pachaas baar text karte hai hum, ek baar bata deta saale.”

He follows Kartik inside and they flop on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“Tere chacha hai, you should remember.”

Aman shakes his head, smiling. “Teko pata hai, I’m hopeless at this. Mujhe yeh sab yaad nai rehta.”

They grab their bowls of dal rice and settle in front of the cricket match on TV. Aman takes a spoonful of his food and the taste hits him, reminding him of his mom’s cooking.

“Kartik dal tune banayi hai?”

“Yes,” Kartik says, looking proud of himself. “Mummy ki recipe hai.”

“Kiski mummy?”

Kartik rolls his eyes. “Pados mein Pinky hai na, uski. Arre teri mummy Aman.”

He smiles, pleased. “Aur _tu_ mummy ko mummy kabse bulata hai?”

Aman is rewarded with a rare, embarrassed Kartik who for some reason can’t look past the bowl of dal rice. “Dekh, last week, when I was talking to her toh unhone bola, ki main Papa ko papa bula sakta hoon toh I should call her mummy,” he mumbles.

He smiles against Kartik’s cheek, pressing a soft, grateful kiss.

***

Later, much later, when the match is over and Kartik is dozing on the couch, Aman wipes his hands having just washed dishes. He smiles fondly at his sleeping boyfriend before sending his mom a text.

_Aman: daal bahot achhi thi, thanks ma_

It’s worth it when he receives the slew of heart emojis early the next morning.

  
  


###  **3\. Champa Tripathi**

Aman is lowkey jealous of how _easy_ it was for Kartik to impress Champa chachi. He’s not even sure she likes _him_ that much and he’s her nephew. She comes to Delhi for a weekend, with Goggle and while Aman follows Goggle around with her shopping bags, Kartik and Champa follow at a leisurely pace behind them. The truth is, Kartik has lived in Delhi all his life. Long before Aman moved here and that, combined with his thirst for obscure historical knowledge...it’s like he was born to be a tour guide. An engaging one too, Aman has had firsthand experience. Back when they were first dating, and before that, when they were still dating but they called it “hanging out”, he remembers the countless walks they took in Hauz Khas, Kartik’s repository of facts somehow never empty.

He’s thinking about it now, stolen kisses on an early morning walk in Hauz Khas village, the thrill of it all. He looks back at Kartik and he looks engrossed in a conversation with chachi, while she whispers furtively to him. Aman smiles to himself and catches up with Goggle.

***

When Goggle finally gets out of the store with two more bags of clothes, she decides to call it a day, so Aman steps outside to see if chachi and Kartik are waiting outside.

He sees chachi first, smiling beatifically, with Kartik walking closely behind her. She grabs Goggle’s arm excitedly, showing her a picture she’d taken with her favorite TV star. _Arre pata hai, main toh dar rahi thi par Kartik ne jaake unse poochh liya!_

Aman walks up to Kartik, handing him a few of Goggle’s bags. What was she aiming for, bankruptcy? “Nice one, pata liya chachi ko.”

Kartik wiggles his eyebrows, looking all kinds of smug. “Three down, two to go?”

“Chachu toh phir bhi maan jaayenge, Papa ke liye wait karte rahiyo tu.”

“Wait and watch, baby.”

Aman huffs out a laugh. “Bewakoof,” he says, but it’s so fond, Kartik can only smile.

  
  


###  **4\. Chaman Tripathi**

Aman was...not having a good day. He’d barely said two words to Kartik since last evening when they’d fought. Now, as he parks his bike he can barely remember what it was even about. In the moment though, they were both so angry. He’d said some awful things and Kartik had given it as well as he got, and slept on the couch. Aman slept fitfully through the night, not used to going to bed angry and certainly not used to sleeping without Kartik but he’ll be damned if he backs down first.

He opens the door to their apartment with more force than strictly needed, but falls flat when he realizes he’s alone. Kartik isn’t home yet, and for good reason, he thinks. He’s not sure what to say to him.

A shower and an omelet later, he gets into bed and figures it’s late enough that it warrants a text to Kartik.

_Aman: ghar kab aa raha hai?_

_Kartik: sorry late ho gaya, petrol station pe hoon, 15 min_

_Aman: ok_

The biochemistry textbook on the nightstand looks accusingly at him. He’s been preparing for GATE, hoping to get into a Ph.D. program at Delhi University and he should probably study. But he’s had a shitty night, followed by a shitty day and mostly he just wants to make up with Kartik. They rarely fight like this and this has already gone longer than he cares for.

His phone rings, and he’s grateful he doesn’t have to make a decision. “Haan chachu? Kaise ho?”

“Uh, main toh theek hoon beta, Kartik hai kya? Maine usse call toh kiya tha, baat nai ho paayi.”

Aman prickles in annoyance. He’d called Aman for _Kartik_? “Drive kar raha hoga, abhi ghar nai aaya woh. Main kuch help karu, ya Kartik hi chalega?”

“Aisi koi baat nai hai,” he hears Chachu’s muffled voice say. “Actually agle hafte Gog— _Rajni_ ka birthday hai na, aur kuch time pehle Kartik ne usko ek book bheji thi...usse bahot pasand aayi thi. Toh maine socha shayad usse poochhu koi aur recommendation ho agar, uske paas.”

“Aap usko book de rahe ho? Ladka nai?”

“Arre chup kar naalayak, chachu ka mazaak udayega?”

Aman laughs, some of his sour mood from earlier dissipating. “Ussme toh probably Kartik hi help kar sakta hai. Main call karvata hoon.”

“Theek hai bete. Baaki sab theek? Uh, tum dono—matlab sab sahi hai na?”

“Sab theek hai,” he says. And then before he can chicken out, “Actually abhi toh hum naraaz hai, ek doosre se.”

Chachu laughs on the other end. “Phir toh bilkul ma baap pe gaye ho.”

“Arre chachu aap bhi na! Rakho phone,” he mutters. Sue him for trying.

“Achha chal, gussa mat kar. Tu-tu main-main hoti rehti hai, koi badi baat nai hai, mana lo jaake.”

“Aur agar meri galti na ho toh?”

“Arre phir bhi mana lo, yeh koi cricket match thodi hai, jo score rakhe ho? Bewakoof.”

“Chalo theek hai, jo aap kaho. Rakhta hoon abhi, Kartik aayega toh phone kavata hoon.”

“Theek hai bete, aur haan, mummy ko phone kar liya karo kabhi.”

“Arre har do-teen din toh baat hoti hai, ab roz roz kya baat karu?”

“Kar liya karo na, mummy hai. Pareshaan hi rehti hai humesha.”

“Ma bhi na. Theek hai, karta hoon. Abhi rakhta hoon. Haan ji goodnight.”

***

By the time Kartik comes home, 15 minutes and one long traffic jam later, he’s half-asleep on their bed. Aman hears him come in and go straight into the shower. He smiles to himself, Kartik hates being sweaty and gross and always showers first thing when he gets home. A short while later, when the bed dips on the other side, Aman opens his eyes, stifling a yawn.

“Der ho gayi,” he says, apropos of nothing.

Kartik gets under the covers, shuffling closer. “Hm, traffic.”

“Kuch khaya?”

“Office mein sandwiches laya tha koi, abhi bhook nai hai,” he murmurs, eyes closed.

Aman runs his hand through the dense mop of hair on his boyfriend’s head, smiling when Kartik’s body loses whatever little tension it held.

“Baby?”

Kartik opens his eyes blearily, looking as tired as Aman felt. “Hm?”

“Baaki ki ladai kal khatam karte hai,” he teases.

“Yaar mujhe toh yaad bhi nai hai kis baat ki ladai thi, I’m sorry, jo bhi tha,” he says, huffing out a laugh.

Aman joins in, smiling into a chaste kiss. “Mujhe bhi nai. But I’m sorry too, and I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kartik says, tangling their legs together.

“Shit. Chachu ka phone aaya tha, unko Goggle ke liye koi book recommendation chahiye thi.”

Kartik grins blindingly. Aman knows what’s coming.

“Fuck, chachu bhi.”

“Bola tha na.”

“Papa baaki hai abhi,” he retorts.

“Tu paise ready rakh, mummy ke baad bet lagi thi humari. Do mahine hai mere paas abhi.”

Aman rolls his eyes fondly. “Kartik humara joint account hai.”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Kartik says primly.

He laughs softly, kissing the corner of Kartik’s mouth before crowding into him. It’s silent for a bit and Aman goes back and forth about saying it but decides he wants Kartik to know.

“Kartik.”

Kartik pokes him, digging into his ribs. “Arre sone de na,” he jokes.

Aman pokes him back. “All bets aside, you know you don’t have to prove anything right? Mere liye tum kaafi ho. Agar meri family tumhe kabhi accept nai bhi karegi, phir bhi tum kaafi ho.”

He’s silent for long enough that Aman thinks he didn’t hear it. He’s about to say it again when Kartik clears his throat self-consciously. “I knew that.”

“Did you?”

“Of course,” he says although he sounds a little flustered and Aman knew he should’ve said this sooner. “Waise bhi mere bina tu jaayega kahaan?”

Aman smiles, lips stretching across Kartik’s neck, where he’d tucked his face in. “Baat toh sahi hai. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

The last thing he feels is a delicate kiss against his temple before he gives in to sleep.

  
  


###  **5\. Shankar Tripathi**

About ten months after their almost-wedding, they were headed back to Allahabad for Diwali. Things were undoubtedly way better with his family than when they were last year, but Aman was still apprehensive. Over the years he’d dreaded going back home so much that it was hard to lose some of that residual fear. Logically he knew it was going to be okay, but still. As if sensing him spiral, Kartik knocked his knees into Aman’s, giving him a reassuring nod.

That was four days ago. Now, Kartik was holed up in Aman’s bedroom under four blankets, victim to a fever that showed no signs of abating. They had the doctor visit and they were told to wait for another day before bringing him to the hospital. Aman hadn’t left his side since, worried sick. Neither of them ever really fell ill so this was particularly upsetting. His family left them alone for the most part, although they’d drop by every now and then to talk to him. Aman appreciated it more than he let on.

He squeezes the cold compress to get rid of excess water before applying it to Kartik’s burning forehead. Aman isn’t sure how this is going to help when the medicines haven’t so far, but his mom was convinced, so here he is anyway. It can’t hurt to try. A while later when Kartik’s forehead is less warm and the water turns lukewarm, he sneaks into bed, trying not to wake Kartik up. Aman leans against the headboard, his physics answer booklet in hand as he goes over it. Kartik moves closer on instinct and Aman smiles fondly, using his free hand to comb his fingers through Kartik’s matted hair.

That’s how his father finds them and Aman has to struggle not to jump away from Kartik when his father opens the door. It’s fine. They’re fine. They’ve been over this.

His father averts his eyes, embarrassed and Aman swallows nervously before keeping his booklet down.

“Uh, kaisa hai ab woh? Kartik, matlab.”

“Theek hai. Kal tak ka intezaar karna hai, warna hospital jaana padega.”

“Achha. Aur davai khaayi usne?”

Aman thinks he’s entered some kind of twilight zone. His father hasn’t been outright hostile in a long time but this is still a far cry from what they’re used to. “Haan subah thoda sa nashta kiya tha, uske saath.”

“Nimboo pani ya kuch pila do,” he says, awkwardly. Aman almost wants to laugh.

“Woh bhi pila diya Papa.”

He hovers awkwardly around the door, and Aman purses his lips to hold back a smile. “Aapko baithna hai toh baith sakte hai.”

‘Nai, matlab aisi koi baat—”

Aman rolls his eyes. “Baithiye, main naha kar, kuch khaane ko lekar aata hoon.”

“Haan, ab tum—matlab tum jaoge toh kisi ko toh baithna chahiye.”

“Bilkul. Toh aap baithiye. Aata hoon abhi,” he says, getting up carefully, trying not to jostle a sleeping Kartik.

***

When Aman makes his way back with a plate of food and two cups of tea, he finds his father sitting next to Kartik. He offers the tea to him and his father takes it gratefully, sipping loudly. Aman bites back a smile. Some things really never change. He resumes his position on the bed.

“Maine apni gift kholi thi kal raat,” his father says, breaking the silence.

Aman looks up. He knows what Kartik had gotten everyone, including his father. They’d done small gifts this year, nothing expensive, just a gesture of love. For his father, Kartik had managed to find a signed first edition of a botany textbook his father practically worshipped.

“Achha? Kaisi lagi?”

His father clears his throat, clearly not at ease. “Achhi thi..uh, bahot achhi. Very thoughtful,” he adds.

Aman nods. “Thoughtful toh hai woh,” he replies, not giving his father an inch.

“Khush ho, tum log?”

He looks up, surprised. His dad looks uncomfortable but sincere and really, that’s more than what he’d ever envisioned for himself. “Haan, bahot khush hai.”

“Woh uh, khayal rakhta hai tumhara?”

“Hum _ek doosre_ ka khayal rakhte hai,” he says and it comes out harsher than he’d intended. “Sorry.”

“Nai koi baat nai, mera woh matlab nai tha. Achha hai.”

There’s a lull in conversation while they finish the samosas and the tea. Aman sets his cup down, ready to get back to his studying, but apparently his dad had a different idea.

“Maine maafi nai mangi kabhi...woh pichhli baar,” he trails off weakly.

Aman exhales strongly, still miffed about that. “Baat toh sahi hai.”

“Jo bhi kiya tha tumhari achhai ke liye tha.”

“Par galat tha. Aap galat the.”

His father nods, allowing that. “Haan. Galat toh tha.”

The silence stretches and Aman struggles to find something to say. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s not the only one who should be apologized to.

He’s brought out of it when Kartik snuffles against him, tired eyes open for the first time since this morning. Aman touches his forehead which feels decidedly less warm than an hour ago and hopes that the worst is over.

“Kartik? Paani chahiye?”

Kartik ignores him in favor of his father who looks like a deer caught in headlights and if Kartik wasn’t sick Aman would be finding this a lot funnier.

“Papa...bukhar hai, mar nai raha hoon,” he croaks, smiling blearily.

Aman cuffs his head fondly. “Bewakoof. Paani peele, please.”

Kartik takes the offered glass and slowly drinks up. Aman looks at his father who looks as embarrassed as he’d ever seen him, but not displeased.

His father hovers near the door. “Khayal rakhna apna, Aman pareshaan tha.”

Kartik nods seriously. “Haan, sirf Aman,” he says, and yeah, there’s the sign that he’s getting better. He’s back to being a little shit. Aman fights a smile.

“Naalayak. Sab pareshaan the. Ab aaraam karo,” his father says, but he’s smiling as he heads out.

Inside, Kartik lies down on his lap, and Aman bends to give him an upside-down kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll take the money once we get home.”

“What?”

“Bet, baby.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll take that too,” he snickers and Aman shuts him up with a kiss.

  
  


###  **+1 Aman Tripathi**

Eight months after Diwali, Aman gets into the Ph.D. program of his choice and he starts in July. They move to an apartment closer to school and miraculously, closer to Kartik’s new office too. Things are good. Things are better than good, he thinks, as Kartik brings the last box in and shuts the door behind him. He looks good. Happy. Like he fits right into Aman’s tiny world and makes it worth living. Kartik finds him looking and raises his eyebrows in a silent, _is everything okay_ and Aman nods. 

They push the boxes aside and unpack some of the essentials before Kartik calls dibs on the shower and runs inside, leaving Aman sweaty and a little betrayed until he decides to just follow him in.

“Paani save karna chahiye,” he says. Kartik laughs, bright and so beautiful, it hurts. Aman never wants to forget this. He kisses the laughter right off his face, pressing him against the cold bathroom wall.

***

Later, when they’re eating pizza in bed and Kartik is drowsy and pliant against him, Aman thinks _I want to marry him_. It’s certainly not the first time he’s had the thought, they pretty much already got married and he knows this is forever, but still. There’s a gold band he’s been carrying around for the past few months and last month, he told his parents. It felt like the right time.

They get rid of the pizza boxes and when Aman comes back to bed he looks at Kartik sitting there, curled up with a book like he _belonged_ , and he did. He thinks of the life they’ve built, the life they continue to build and nothing really sounds as difficult when he pictures Kartik by his side. He fishes the little black box out and walks up to Kartik, smiling fondly at his glasses slipping down his nose. He briefly wonders if maybe Kartik wants something fancier, but decides against it. Neither of them was extravagant where it counts.

He drops down on one knee. Kartik startles at the sudden movement so close to him and turns to look, and _oh_. This is how he knew this was right. He never wants to forget how this felt. Kartik, in their room in ratty sweatpants and his glasses. This was a life they’d literally fought for and one he was so grateful to have.

Aman tries to say at least some of this, he had a whole speech planned, but Kartik is looking at him, awed and watery-eyed and he feels the sting in his own eyes, he’s so happy.

“Baby—”

“Kartik—” he cuts off, sniffling.

“I know, I love you.” Kartik turns to face him, a warm palm against his jaw, a thumb against his cheekbone. Aman smiles so big it hurts. The box shakes in his trembling hands.

“Speech plan ki thi, but, fuck. Shaadi karoge mujhse?”

“Haan, yes,” he says nodding and crying and Aman slips the band onto his finger with shaky hands before kissing him, soft and lingering. Like they had all the time in the world.

And they do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is entirely in english! some of the context might not translate as well, but a couple people asked for it so here you go. thank you for all the love so far! <3

###  **1.** ~~ **Goggle**~~ **Rajni Tripathi**

Things Aman wasn’t surprised to hear and was extremely proud of his boyfriend (Husband?) for: 

  1. Basically saving Goggle’s life.
  2. Somehow making her even more outspoken (she went by Rajni now, it was a Moment).
  3. Giving her self-esteem a boost. 



Things Aman was shocked and appalled by: 

  1. Goggle started dating and had a boyfriend two weeks after they returned from Allahabad. Her excuse for the family was _at least it’s a boy_. No one said anything after that.



_Aman: Are you leveraging my sexuality to date boys_

_Goggle: It was Kartik’s idea actually_

_Aman: I—_

_Aman: You talk to Kartik???_

_Goggle: You don’t want to know_

_Aman: Tell me!!_

_Goggle: I wanted tips_

_Aman: tips?_

_Goggle: t i p s :)_

_Aman: you’re right. I didn’t want to know._

2\. Goggle and Kartik are apparently best friends

3\. He calls her Rajjo. _Rajjo_. Unbelievable.

***

Aman comes home, tired and sweaty after the day he’s had. He’s taken to teaching chemistry at their local high school. It’s not permanent, they needed a substitute teacher for 6 months and well, he figures they could use the stability while they figured things out. Kartik was still in sales too, they needed the money, but it felt like they were finally on an upward swing and things would slowly fall into place.

He hears the shower running in their bathroom and stops at their dining table to grab a glass of water when he sees the book Kartik has been reading this week. It’s lying next to an envelope addressed to Goggle and Aman gathers he’s probably sending it to her. The gesture makes warmth unfurl in his chest, but also, he shouldn’t be surprised. For someone who’d been hurt the way Kartik has, multiple times, he remained beautifully open with his heart. Giving his love freely. It was one of Aman’s favorite things about him. The book lies open on page one, where Kartik had slipped a note in.

_I saw one of her poems on Instagram so I bought the book. Surprisingly found a used copy in Lajpat nagar. She talks a lot about self-worth, and beauty and how “you’re not a reflection of those who can’t love you.” good, right? I finished reading it today and thought you might like it. It’s yours to keep. - Kartik_

Aman sits there, waiting for the bathroom to free up, flipping through the book. He’s not much for poetry, he likes the literal, the tangible, but Kartik loves it, and he knows Goggle does too. His dad had always taken great pride in sending them to an English medium school and Aman had fond memories of middle school when Goggle would read his English textbook with a hunger he’d only seen mirrored now, in Kartik. But to sit there, sweat cooling on his back, thinking about how two of his favorite people get along...it’s something he never thought he’d have. 

He gets up and mills around their kitchen, getting the eggs out of the fridge. They had leftovers from yesterday too, so some bhurji with roti would probably cover it. Aman debates whether to start chopping things up, when he hears the bathroom door open.

Kartik looks...well he looks really fucking good all of the time, but privately, Aman thinks he looks the best at home when neither of them has to pretend otherwise. When he can just walk up and kiss the living daylights off his boyfriend (fiancée?). Which is what he does. Kartik pulls back, flushed, dazed and smiling and Aman thinks he’d do pretty much anything to have him look like that all the time.

“What was that for?”

Aman smiles, grazing his thumb across a stubbled cheek. “Why? Can't kiss my boyfriend?”

“You can do a lot more than kiss.” Kartik smiles back easily, eyes glinting playfully.

And well, no one said Aman wasn’t the most competitive motherfucker around this house. Challenge accepted. He sinks to his knees. That’ll show him.

  
  


###  **2\. Sunaina Tripathi**

It starts because of Goggle. Aman will swear to this till his dying breath; it’s _entirely_ Goggle’s fault. Yes, she goes by Rajni now. No, he will not call her that, because Goggle was a nickname _he_ came up with, out of love and affection _way_ before everyone made into a Thing. So he’s allowed, Goggle said so. Anyway, it starts with Goggle adding Kartik to their family Whatsapp group. And really, if Kartik ever breaks up with him Aman will know this is why.

It’s been about three months since they came back from Allahabad, since their almost-wedding or you know, almost-breakup, whichever way you look at it. Although he personally prefers almost-wedding. God knows they’ve christened every room of their apartment enough to celebrate it.

Aman almost adds double the amount of 5% BSA to his buffer solution when he sees the notification. Oh god. Oh _no_. Everyone knows that adding someone to the Whatsapp group is at least a level 7 step in a relationship. He peels off his gloves before texting Goggle furiously.

_Aman: W H Y_

_Goggle: you’re basically married, dude_

_Aman: if he breaks up with me after this, its on you_

_Goggle: check the group, he’s already talking to aunty :))_

_Aman: i'm going to kill you_

_Goggle: love u too_

Honestly, fuck Goggle.

***

The truth is, Kartik is _way_ better at handling that Whatsapp group than Aman has ever been. Aman has had it on mute since 2014. Kartik replies to every single one of his mom’s messages. With emojis. It’s awful, really. Aman can’t believe he’s being shown up by his own boyfriend. (Husband? Fiancée? They really needed to talk about that.)

***

When his mom finally calls him back after an hour, Aman heads to the balcony for a better signal. He picks it up, visibly annoyed. “What were you guys doing? I called so many times.”

“It was Chaman's birthday, we all went out. Don't you remember?”

If someone could bottle the way his mom sounds polite but extremely unimpressed with him….it would scare countries into submission, he just knows it.

Aman clears his throat. “Yeah, I mean—of course. That's why I called. To uh, wish him,” he finishes unsteadily.

“Sure. Kartik texted first thing this morning, in the group. You should also check it out sometimes.”

He laughs weakly before wishing his uncle, making polite small talk until it was clear neither of them had anything else to add to the conversation. He hangs up, sighing. There’s a reason the group was muted. He’s just never been a people-person, never really gelled in because he’d been hiding such a big part of himself from them all his life. Now, things were different, but he still felt the lingering awkwardness each time they talked.

Aman shakes himself out of it, turning around to see Kartik leaning against the balcony door. Right now, he was going to strangle his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who it turns out, was laughing at him. Aman tries to stay mad. He really, truly does. But the thing about Kartik is, he has the most infectious laugh Aman has ever heard. Loud and full-bodied and it lights him up from the inside out.

Kartik stops laughing long enough to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn't wish him,” he finishes, dissolving into laughter again.

“You're such an asshole. We text like, fifty times a day. Could've told me once.”

He follows Kartik inside and they flop on their couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“He's _your_ uncle, you should remember.”

Aman shakes his head, smiling. “You know I’m hopeless at this. I don't do well with dates.”

They grab their bowls of dal rice and settle in front of the cricket match on TV. Aman takes a spoonful of his food and the taste hits him, reminding him of his mom’s cooking.

“Kartik, did you make the dal?”

“Yes,” Kartik says, looking proud of himself. “It's mom's recipe.”

“Who's mom?”

Kartik rolls his eyes. “Our neighbor, Pinky? Hers. _Your_ mom, Aman."

He smiles, pleased. “And since when do _you_ call mom, mom?”

Aman is rewarded with a rare, embarrassed Kartik who for some reason can’t look past the bowl of dal rice. “Listen, last week, when I was talking to her she said if I call Papa, papa, I should call her mom,” he mumbles.

He smiles against Kartik’s cheek, pressing a soft, grateful kiss.

***

Later, much later, when the match is over and Kartik is dozing on the couch, Aman wipes his hands having just washed dishes. He smiles fondly at his sleeping boyfriend before sending his mom a text.

_Aman: the dal was so good, thanks ma_

It’s worth it when he receives the slew of heart emojis early the next morning.

  
  


###  **3\. Champa Tripathi**

Aman is lowkey jealous of how _easy_ it was for Kartik to impress Champa aunty. He’s not even sure she likes _him_ that much and he’s her nephew. She comes to Delhi for a weekend, with Goggle and while Aman follows Goggle around with her shopping bags, Kartik and Champa follow at a leisurely pace behind them. The truth is, Kartik has lived in Delhi all his life. Long before Aman moved here and that, combined with his thirst for obscure historical knowledge...it’s like he was born to be a tour guide. An engaging one too, Aman has had firsthand experience. Back when they were first dating, and before that, when they were still dating but they called it “hanging out”, he remembers the countless walks they took in Hauz Khas, Kartik’s repository of facts somehow never empty.

He’s thinking about it now, stolen kisses on an early morning walk in Hauz Khas village, the thrill of it all. He looks back at Kartik and he looks engrossed in a conversation with aunty, while she whispers furtively to him. Aman smiles to himself and catches up with Goggle.

***

When Goggle finally gets out of the store with two more bags of clothes, she decides to call it a day, so Aman steps outside to see if aunty and Kartik are waiting outside.

He sees aunty first, smiling beatifically, with Kartik walking closely behind her. She grabs Goggle’s arm excitedly, showing her a picture she’d taken with her favorite TV star. _I was so scared to approach her, but Kartik went and spoke to her!_

Aman walks up to Kartik, handing him a few of Goggle’s bags. What was she aiming for, bankruptcy? “Nice one, you charmed her too.”

Kartik wiggles his eyebrows, looking all kinds of smug. “Three down, two to go?”

“Uncle might be easy, but you keep waiting for Dad," he jokes.

“Wait and watch, baby.”

Aman huffs out a laugh. “Stupid,” he says, but it’s so fond, Kartik can only smile.

  
  


###  **4\. Chaman Tripathi**

Aman was...not having a good day. He’d barely said two words to Kartik since last evening when they’d fought. Now, as he parks his bike he can barely remember what it was even about. In the moment though, they were both so angry. He’d said some awful things and Kartik had given it as well as he got, and slept on the couch. Aman slept fitfully through the night, not used to going to bed angry and certainly not used to sleeping without Kartik but he’ll be damned if he backs down first.

He opens the door to their apartment with more force than strictly needed, but falls flat when he realizes he’s alone. Kartik isn’t home yet, and for good reason, he thinks. He’s not sure what to say to him.

A shower and an omelet later, he gets into bed and figures it’s late enough that it warrants a text to Kartik.

_Aman: When are you coming home?_

_Kartik: sorry running late, i'm at the petrol station, 15 min_

_Aman: ok_

The biochemistry textbook on the nightstand looks accusingly at him. He’s been preparing for GATE, hoping to get into a Ph.D. program at Delhi University and he should probably study. But he’s had a shitty night, followed by a shitty day and mostly he just wants to make up with Kartik. They rarely fight like this and this has already gone longer than he cares for.

His phone rings, and he’s grateful he doesn’t have to make a decision. “Yes, uncle? How are you?”

“Uh, I'm good, is Kartik there? I tried calling him but wasn't able to reach him.”

Aman prickles in annoyance. He’d called Aman for _Kartik_? “He must be driving, he's not home yet. Is it something I can help with, or just Kartik?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” he hears Chachu’s muffled voice say. “Actually it's Gog— _Rajni's_ birthday next week, and some time ago Kartik had gifted her a book that she really liked. So I was hoping for another recommendation maybe.”

“Oh? You're gifting her a book? Not a husband?”

“Shut up, when did you learn to make fun of your elders?”

Aman laughs, some of his sour mood from earlier dissipating. “That's probably something only Kartik can help with. I'll ask him to call you.”

“Sure. Everything else okay? Uh, you know, between the two of you?”

“Yeah, things are fine,” he says. And then before he can chicken out, “Actually we're kind of in the middle of a fight.”

His uncle laughs on the other end. “Then you're definitely your parents' son.”

“Wow, thanks. I'm hanging up now,” he mutters. Sue him for trying.

“Oh come on, don't be mad. Fights happen, it's not a big deal. Make it up to him.”

“What if it's not my fault?”

“Make it up to him anyway, this isn't a cricket match, the way you're keeping score. Stupid.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Alright, talk to you later, I'll ask Kartik to give you a call.”

“Sure, son, And listen, call your mom once in a while, huh?”

“We talk every two days, what am I supposed to talk about everyday?”

“Just do it; she's your mom. Always worried about you.”

“Okay, I'll call her. I'll speak to you later, goodnight.”

***

By the time Kartik comes home, 15 minutes and one long traffic jam later, he’s half-asleep on their bed. Aman hears him come in and go straight into the shower. He smiles to himself, Kartik hates being sweaty and gross and always showers first thing when he gets home. A short while later, when the bed dips on the other side, Aman opens his eyes, stifling a yawn.

“It's late,” he says, apropos of nothing.

Kartik gets under the covers, shuffling closer. “Hm, traffic.”

“Did you eat something?”

“Someone ordered sandwiches in the office, I had those. Not really hungry right now,” he murmurs, eyes closed.

Aman runs his hand through the dense mop of hair on his boyfriend’s head, smiling when Kartik’s body loses whatever little tension it held.

“Baby?”

Kartik opens his eyes blearily, looking as tired as Aman felt. “Hm?”

“We can finish the rest of the fight tomorrow,” he teases.

“Dude I don't even remember what it was about, I'm sorry, whatever it was,” he says, huffing out a laugh.

Aman joins in, smiling into a chaste kiss. “Neither do I. But I’m sorry too, and I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kartik says, tangling their legs together.

“Shit. Uncle had called, he needed a book recommendation for Goggle.”

Kartik grins blindingly. Aman knows what’s coming.

“Fuck, Uncle too.”

“I told you.”

“You still have dad left,” he retorts.

“You just keep the money ready, we struck this bet after your mom and I still have two months.”

Aman rolls his eyes fondly. “Kartik we have a joint account.”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Kartik says primly.

He laughs softly, kissing the corner of Kartik’s mouth before crowding into him. It’s silent for a bit and Aman goes back and forth about saying it but decides he wants Kartik to know.

“Kartik.”

Kartik pokes him, digging into his ribs. “Dude, let me sleep,” he jokes.

Aman pokes him back. “All bets aside, you know you don’t have to prove anything right? You're all I need. Even if my family never accepts you, you're enough for me.”

He’s silent for long enough that Aman thinks he didn’t hear it. He’s about to say it again when Kartik clears his throat self-consciously. “I knew that.”

“Did you?”

“Of course,” he says although he sounds a little flustered and Aman knew he should’ve said this sooner. “You'd be helpless without me anyway.”

Aman smiles, lips stretching across Kartik’s neck, where he’d tucked his face in. “That's true. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

The last thing he feels is a delicate kiss against his temple before he gives in to sleep.

  
  


###  **5\. Shankar Tripathi**

About ten months after their almost-wedding, they were headed back to Allahabad for Diwali. Things were undoubtedly way better with his family than when they were last year, but Aman was still apprehensive. Over the years he’d dreaded going back home so much that it was hard to lose some of that residual fear. Logically he knew it was going to be okay, but still. As if sensing him spiral, Kartik knocked his knees into Aman’s, giving him a reassuring nod.

That was four days ago. Now, Kartik was holed up in Aman’s bedroom under four blankets, victim to a fever that showed no signs of abating. They had the doctor visit and they were told to wait for another day before bringing him to the hospital. Aman hadn’t left his side since, worried sick. Neither of them ever really fell ill so this was particularly upsetting. His family left them alone for the most part, although they’d drop by every now and then to talk to him. Aman appreciated it more than he let on.

He squeezes the cold compress to get rid of excess water before applying it to Kartik’s burning forehead. Aman isn’t sure how this is going to help when the medicines haven’t so far, but his mom was convinced, so here he is anyway. It can’t hurt to try. A while later when Kartik’s forehead is less warm and the water turns lukewarm, he sneaks into bed, trying not to wake Kartik up. Aman leans against the headboard, his physics answer booklet in hand as he goes over it. Kartik moves closer on instinct and Aman smiles fondly, using his free hand to comb his fingers through Kartik’s matted hair.

That’s how his father finds them and Aman has to struggle not to jump away from Kartik when his father opens the door. It’s fine. They’re fine. They’ve been over this.

His father averts his eyes, embarrassed and Aman swallows nervously before keeping his booklet down.

“How is he now? Kartik, I mean.”

“He's fine. We have to wait till tomorrow and if he's not better we'll have to take him to the hospital."

“Oh okay. Did he take his medicine?”

Aman thinks he’s entered some kind of twilight zone. His father hasn’t been outright hostile in a long time but this is still a far cry from what they’re used to. “Yeah, he took them with breakfast." 

“Get him some lemonade, or something,” he says, awkwardly. Aman almost wants to laugh.

“Did that too, Papa.”

He hovers awkwardly around the door, and Aman purses his lips to hold back a smile. “You're welcome to sit with us, if you want.”

‘No, it's fine, I mean—”

Aman rolls his eyes. “Sit, please. I'm going to shower and get something to eat for us.”

“Yes, I mean, sure. If you go—someone should be here, just in case.”

“Right. You do that, I'll be back,” he says, getting up carefully, trying not to jostle a sleeping Kartik.

***

When Aman makes his way back with a plate of food and two cups of tea, he finds his father sitting next to Kartik. He offers the tea to him and his father takes it gratefully, sipping loudly. Aman bites back a smile. Some things really never change. He resumes his position on the bed.

“I opened my gift, last night,” his father says, breaking the silence.

Aman looks up. He knows what Kartik had gotten everyone, including his father. They’d done small gifts this year, nothing expensive, just a gesture of love. For his father, Kartik had managed to find a signed first edition of a botany textbook his father practically worshipped.

“Oh? What'd you think?”

His father clears his throat, clearly not at ease. “It was good...uh, great. Very thoughtful,” he adds.

Aman nods. “He's definitely thoughtful,” he replies, not giving his father an inch.

“You're happy, the two of you?”

He looks up, surprised. His dad looks uncomfortable but sincere and really, that’s more than what he’d ever envisioned for himself. “Yeah, we're very happy.”

“He uh, he takes care of you?”

“We take care of _each other_ ,” he says and it comes out harsher than he’d intended. “Sorry.”

“No that's okay, I didn't uh, mean it that way. That's good.”

There’s a lull in conversation while they finish the samosas and the tea. Aman sets his cup down, ready to get back to his studying, but apparently his dad had a different idea.

“I never apologized for last time,” he trails off weakly.

Aman exhales strongly, still miffed about that. “No, you didn't.”

“I was doing what I thought was best for you.”

“But it wasn't. And you were wrong.”

His father nods, allowing that. “Yes, I was.”

The silence stretches and Aman struggles to find something to say. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s not the only one who should be apologized to.

He’s brought out of it when Kartik snuffles against him, tired eyes open for the first time since this morning. Aman touches his forehead which feels decidedly less warm than an hour ago and hopes that the worst is over.

“Kartik? Can I get you some water?”

Kartik ignores him in favor of his father who looks like a deer caught in headlights and if Kartik wasn’t sick Aman would be finding this a lot funnier.

“Papa...it's a fever...I'm not dying,” he croaks, smiling blearily.

Aman cuffs his head fondly. “Stupid. Drink this water, please.”

Kartik takes the offered glass and slowly drinks up. Aman looks at his father who looks as embarrassed as he’d ever seen him, but not displeased.

His father hovers near the door. “Take care of yourself, Aman was worried.”

Kartik nods seriously. “Of course. Just Aman,” he says, and yeah, there’s the sign that he’s getting better. He’s back to being a little shit. Aman fights a smile.

“We all were, now rest up.” his father says, but he’s smiling as he heads out.

Inside, Kartik lies down on his lap, and Aman bends to give him an upside-down kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll take the money once we get home.”

“What?”

“Bet, baby.”

“Fuck.”

“I’ll take that too,” he snickers and Aman shuts him up with a kiss.

  
  


###  **+1 Aman Tripathi**

Eight months after Diwali, Aman gets into the Ph.D. program of his choice and he starts in July. They move to an apartment closer to school and miraculously, closer to Kartik’s new office too. Things are good. Things are better than good, he thinks, as Kartik brings the last box in and shuts the door behind him. He looks good. Happy. Like he fits right into Aman’s tiny world and makes it worth living. Kartik finds him looking and raises his eyebrows in a silent, _is everything okay_ and Aman nods. 

They push the boxes aside and unpack some of the essentials before Kartik calls dibs on the shower and runs inside, leaving Aman sweaty and a little betrayed until he decides to just follow him in.

“We should be saving water,” he says. Kartik laughs, bright and so beautiful, it hurts. Aman never wants to forget this. He kisses the laughter right off his face, pressing him against the cold bathroom wall.

***

Later, when they’re eating pizza in bed and Kartik is drowsy and pliant against him, Aman thinks _I want to marry him_. It’s certainly not the first time he’s had the thought, they pretty much already got married and he knows this is forever, but still. There’s a gold band he’s been carrying around for the past few months and last month, he told his parents. It felt like the right time.

They get rid of the pizza boxes and when Aman comes back to bed he looks at Kartik sitting there, curled up with a book like he _belonged_ , and he did. He thinks of the life they’ve built, the life they continue to build and nothing really sounds as difficult when he pictures Kartik by his side. He fishes the little black box out and walks up to Kartik, smiling fondly at his glasses slipping down his nose. He briefly wonders if maybe Kartik wants something fancier, but decides against it. Neither of them was extravagant where it counts.

He drops down on one knee. Kartik startles at the sudden movement so close to him and turns to look, and _oh_. This is how he knew this was right. He never wants to forget how this felt. Kartik, in their room in ratty sweatpants and his glasses. This was a life they’d literally fought for and one he was so grateful to have.

Aman tries to say at least some of this, he had a whole speech planned, but Kartik is looking at him, awed and watery-eyed and he feels the sting in his own eyes, he’s so happy.

“Baby—”

“Kartik—” he cuts off, sniffling.

“I know, I love you.” Kartik turns to face him, a warm palm against his jaw, a thumb against his cheekbone. Aman smiles so big it hurts. The box shakes in his trembling hands.

“I had a whole speech planned, but, fuck. Marry me?”

“Yes, yes,” he says nodding and crying and Aman slips the band onto his finger with shaky hands before kissing him, soft and lingering. Like they had all the time in the world.

And they do.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought! comments and kudos are what fuel me <3
> 
> [here's a rebloggable post!](https://hasan-minhaj.tumblr.com/post/190993860493/five-times-kartik-charmed-his-way-into-the)
> 
> also let me know if anyone would want translations? i can post them as a separate chapter :)


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